


Twenty Hot Fuzz Drabbles

by AbbyBanks



Category: Hot Fuzz (2007)
Genre: Community: movie_100, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-03
Updated: 2009-02-03
Packaged: 2019-09-13 16:11:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16895823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbbyBanks/pseuds/AbbyBanks
Summary: A love story in twenty drabbles.





	Twenty Hot Fuzz Drabbles

**Beginnings**

He stood over Irene’s open grave. There had been a good turnout today. There wasn’t a soul in Sandford who hadn’t known Irene in some capacity: the Brownies; the Women’s Institute.

The Village of the Year committee.

He dropped his handful of dust onto the coffin. “I’ll make you proud, Irene,” he whispered, for the benefit of the listening mourners. 

They’d told him that morning that the travelers had moved on. He had nodded and smiled numbly and said nothing, not revealing that he already knew.

Next year, they would have the award sewn up. Nothing would stop them. Nothing.

 

 **Bloom**

When Irene Butterman (God rest her) had passed on Leslie Tiller took over as Chairwoman of the Floral Committee. She was still new to the village but she ran the garden centre and was naturally green fingered so she was the natural choice. Plus, Cousin Sissy was on the NWA and had recommended her. It seemed that what the NWA said, went, in Sandford.

It was hard work – harder than she expected. She almost stood down but when they won Best Village she decided to give it another year.

After all, if it became too much she could always leave.

 

 **Switch**

Will Smith blew up another car and Nicholas stirred slightly, shifting in his seat, leaning into Danny’s shoulder. A tiny smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. Not the beaming smile from the pub that had made Danny’s breath catch for a moment. Just a little smile, a comfortable one. A friendly one.

A switched-off one.

Danny snagged the remote control and lowered the volume. He’d got the man to switch off and all he had to do was get him bladdered, cover him with ketchup and force him to watch action films until two in the morning.

Easy.

 

**Sweet**

Nicholas had to concede that summer in Sandford was far more pleasant than summer in the city. There wasn’t the same grimy humidity in the air and the breeze carried the scent of fields and greenery.

Danny was eating ice cream again. It melted too fast in this heatwave, which didn’t suit Danny’s tendency to savour it.

“Oops,” he said, licking it off his hand. Nicholas wondered if the sweetness of the ice cream would completely mask the salt of Danny’s skin. 

He sighed and forced himself to look away.

“I need to get a girlfriend,” he told himself, firmly.

 

**Secret**

Nicholas had never had a best mate and he was still sorting out how it worked. Danny made it easy for him, though.

You told your best mate stuff, so Danny had told Nicholas about everything. His mum. His dad. His schooldays. About the weekend he'd spent getting stoned at Glastonbury. About him and Doris, and him and Sally.

Nicholas had told Danny all about Janine. All about London and his uncle. About his peace lily and his parents and his big brother in Dubai.

One day he’d tell him about him and Ian at college and see what happened.

 

 **Rush**

Nicholas turned to see Danny, his face grim, grasping his shoulder.

“Danny, no.”

He was paralysed for long seconds. Danny was his friend. His partner. They worked together, drank together, watched bad movies together. And Danny had betrayed him.

He snatched Michael’s knife and pressed it to Danny’s throat, demanding that Frank stay back, seeing in his eyes that he wasn’t buying it for a moment.

“Shit.”

If Danny was involved then he deserved what was coming. If not, he deserved the chance to get away.

Nicholas ran as fast as he could and a dozen murderers rushed after him.

 

**Cold Sweat**

Danny raised the dagger and drove it to its hilt into Nicholas’s heart. Nicholas stared at him, incredulous, before staggering backwards and slumping to the ground.

His dad walked up and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Good work, son. Your mum would be proud of you.”

Danny walked over to Nicholas’s body and kicked it, just to make sure. His dad beamed with pride.

 

Danny woke, gasping, the clammy sheets wound around him. Nicholas was alive and safe and was going to bring help. All Danny had to do was stay alive until then.

Assuming the NWA would let him.

 

**Power**

Danny’s dad beckoned him in to the office the next morning.

“You’ll have to patrol alone today. I’m afraid Sergeant Angel has decided to return to London,” his dad said loudly, for the benefit of the others.

“Yes, dad,” said Danny.

He signed a patrol car out and sat in the square, keys in the ignition. He could be across the village border in seven minutes, if necessary. 

Everything looked peaceful enough here. His dad had the power to order murder after murder and make everything seem normal. 

He gripped the steering wheel to conceal the trembling in his hands.

 

**Impossible**

Roy and Mary were opening the pub up; Reverend Shooter was talking to Greg and Sheree Prosser. Miss Paver was talking to Bernard Cooper; Mr Treacher was passing by the brewery lorry. In fact, thought Danny, everyone in the square this morning was a member of the NWA. 

Everyone except him.

But he had been assigned here this morning by his dad. Because he trusted Danny? Or because he very much didn’t? The thought would have been impossible until yesterday. But not now.

Nicholas would convince the Met and return. He would.

Danny just hoped he would be in time.

 

 **In The Dark**

The blue fury of the Met had descended, eventually. Nicholas guided them to the crypt, the rats fleeing from their floodlights.

It had been bad enough in the dark of night, stumbling from body to body, their faces moving in the torchlight in horrific parodies of life. Now, the floodlights gave emphasis to every detail. He looked at Arthur Webley and the lads he’d booked after evicting them from the pub and Danny’s cousin Pete. They looked back at him accusingly, their eyes milky in death.

He turned, hurtled through the cloisters and threw up in the castle’s rose garden.

 

 **Kiss**

Nicholas wasn’t supposed to be out of bed yet but he’d woken with a sudden, visceral conviction that Danny was dead and refused to calm down until he’d seen him for himself. 

Eventually the nurses gave in and a porter brought a wheelchair and trundled him to the ICU.

Danny was purple and grey and covered in wires and tubes. Nicholas hauled himself out of the chair and bent over Danny, pressing a kiss onto his forehead. Danny didn’t even twitch. 

“I’m sorry, Danny,” he whispered. He dropped back into the wheelchair and was asleep before they left the room.

 

 **Fallen**

Every time Nicholas closed his eyes he could see Danny, lying in the station ruins. He watched the dust settling into the open wounds in Danny’s chest and stomach and heard his own voice, trembling with sick uncertainty: _Hang on. Everything’s going to be fine_.

He forced himself awake again and found himself still in Danny’s room, the heart monitor beeping softly in his ear. Danny was alive. He would be fine.

His eyes drifted shut on their own. Once again, there was Danny, lying in the rubble, a fallen angel dying under his hands.

_Everything’s going to be fine._

 

 **Luck**

The nurse woke Nicholas when she came to change Danny’s drip. He started upright, surprised to find that he had been asleep for almost an hour.

“You should go back to bed, Sergeant Angel,” scolded the nurse, gently. “He’ll still be here when you wake up.”

“I know,” said Nicholas.

“He’s going to be fine. The doctor said he was very lucky. All his major organs are intact and healthy.”

“Yes.” 

Lucky. Danny had been shot, blown up and seen his dad exposed as a serial murderer, all in one day. 

Nicholas didn’t think much of that kind of luck.

 

 **Bruise**

Danny was pretty much one enormous bruise afterwards. Nicholas needed, desperately, to reassure himself almost constantly of Danny’s continued existence, to be able to hold Danny’s hand as he lay there, or stroke his brow, or anything. But there was only one clear patch he could see, shaped like Cornwall, on the back of one arm.

So he traced a line from St Austell to St Ives. He ran his thumb over Truro. He walked his fingertips from Bodmin to Bude, reassuring himself through the geography of Danny’s skin. 

Marking the endless, terrifying days, until Danny would wake up again.

 

 **Boundaries**

Nicholas had taken the call. Danny sat across his desk while he told him, as sympathetically as possible, that Frank was going to a secure facility where they could assess his mental state. That he wouldn’t be free again as long as he lived, either way.

Danny stared silently out of the window, his body language completely closed down. They were supposed to be friends. Partners.

Nicholas hated having an office, detached from his colleagues. He particularly hated sitting behind this desk but it had never been a boundary between him and Danny before.

Danny got up and left, alone.

 

 **Dream**

Before, it had become a regular occurrence for Nicholas to fall asleep at Danny’s. He often dozed during their second film. Sometimes they both slept and he would wake up with Danny a warm presence down his right side, Danny’s head a comforting weight on his shoulder. 

He didn’t dare sleep in Danny’s company now. He didn’t want Danny to know that he dreamed, still, about Danny coming at him with that dagger. About Danny seizing his collar, holding him for the NWA.

He didn’t want Danny to know that Nicholas was still a little bit afraid of his partner.

 

 **Ghost**

A new couple moved into the pub. A national chain bought out the hotel. A doctor who had grown up in Sandford moved back and took over the vacant medical practice. 

Everyone was relieved when they offered the Inspector’s post to Nicholas, everyone except Nicholas himself. Each decision he made seemed to be weighted by Frank’s invisible presence in the station; whenever someone called him ‘Inspector’ the conversation became unnaturally loaded.

He suspected the new incumbents of Sandford’s other community roles felt the same. 

Some days the ghosts of the living loomed larger than those of the dead, in Sandford.

 

 **Hot**

While Danny was recovering he had to have a special diet and they wouldn’t let him eat Cornettos. With some cajoling he persuaded Nicholas to be his proxy Cornetto eater throughout that hot summer.

Danny could watch Nicholas eat Cornettos for hours.

He took it seriously, like everything else he did. Like he’d decided to be the best damn Cornetto eater he could be. 

First he sucked at the nuts. 

Then he licked round the rim, his tongue catching the drips. 

He swallowed the end of the cone in one go.

Danny prayed that the special diet would never end.

 

 **Memories**

“’Member when you first came t’ Sandford, Nicky?”

“Of course I do.”

“You ‘rrested me! Thought you were a bit of a twat, t’ be honest.”

Nicholas blinked at that.

“I suppose I was.”

“Then I made you laugh. In the pub. ‘Member that? Muppet!”

“Yes, I remember.”

“Fuckin’ beautiful when you laugh, Nicky.”

“What?”

Danny’s head dropped forwards and his lager slid off the arm of the sofa. Nicholas leapt to the rescue, jolting Danny awake again.

“Whmm?”

“Nothing, Danny. Go back to sleep.”

“Fuckin’ beautiful. Love you, beautiful.”

Danny fell asleep again. Nicholas had never been more awake.

 

**Curve**

It came to Nicholas’s attention, over time, that the curve of Danny’s bottom lip was particularly hypnotic. He thought he was subtle in his discovery until DS Wainwright, alone for once, stomped into his office and slammed the door. 

“It’s a fucking disgrace. Everyone can see you’re thinking about snogging him.”

“Every... That’s nonsense.”

“Don’t take the piss. It’s obvious. And obvious he wants you to, you tosspot.”

“I don’t... he what?”

“So stop being a fucking cock-tease and get on with it. Danny!”

Danny appeared in the doorway.

“Boss wants a word,” said Andy and left them to it.

**Author's Note:**

> Twenty drabbles written for prompts at the (sadly defunct) LJ Movie_100 community. The prompts are in **bold** throughout.


End file.
